


Whatever it takes

by venom_for_free



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Coming of Age, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Language, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Modern Setting, Obsession, Oneshot, Pining, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut, Swearing, They figure it out though, but also a lot of other times, but not really, cheating (but not on each other), cursing, tagged underage because they start exploring as kids, they are really bad for each other but they can't let go, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23988898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venom_for_free/pseuds/venom_for_free
Summary: Yuri always loved the adrenalin. Even after years, it's not gotten old. They have. But their game hasn’t.He's knocked against the threshold. Yuri bites into the scorching hot lips on his. They taste like blood and scotch and bad decisions, and maybe there's a lingering trace of smoke. It tastes like his next mistake and his last and like almost all in between.A key in the lock. The front door opens.Steps through the condo.A plastic bag hitting the floor.Silence.Then, Yuri groaning. He is smiling, but Yuri doesn't look at his partner, staring over his shoulder instead. Intohiseyes. And ignores her. Why would he look at the bitch playing house withhisman? She hasn't realized it yet, but she's already gone.Yuri knows Otabek.--Or: They are in love but would rather hurt each other in an insane game of possessive craze than actually admit it.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 20
Kudos: 87





	Whatever it takes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taedae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taedae/gifts).



> Hi everyone.  
> This is a little heavier than my usual stories but here we go.  
> Please mind the tags. 
> 
> They make terrible choices and hurt each other a lot. This is in no way a healthy relationship depiction.  
> If you are here for fluff, you don't want to read this. If not, enjoy ♥ 
> 
> As always, big thanks to my darling, editor, inspiration and partner in crime, Taedae.

Yuri loves the adrenalin. He’s always loved it. Even after years, it's not gotten old. They have. But their game hasn’t. 

He's knocked against the threshold. A dull thud. A dull pain. A bright smile. Teeth. He bites into the scorching hot lips on his. They taste like blood and scotch and bad decisions, and maybe there's a lingering trace of smoke. 

It tastes wrong. It tastes right. It tastes like his next mistake and his last and like almost all in between. 

He stops thinking. Focuses on feeling. Feeling is good. Kisses on skin, teeth on clothes, a pulling force dragging his hair around. It tastes like regret in the morning, or maybe in the evening, or maybe not at all. Not if he can reach his goal. 

Yuri is pushed into his room, but he withstands. Won't go further. Not a step. The doorway is the right place. This is where he needs to be when— 

A key in the lock. The front door opens. 

There's a grin on Yuri's face, but his partner doesn't smile. Good. Yuri kisses him again, moans, louder now, and wraps a leg around him. 

Steps through the condo. 

A plastic bag hitting the floor. 

Silence. 

Then, Yuri groaning. 

He is still smiling, but Yuri doesn't look at his partner anymore, staring over his shoulder instead. Into  _ his  _ eyes. And ignores her. Why would he look at the bitch playing house with  _ his _ man? Well, not anymore. She hasn't realized it yet, but she's already gone. 

Yuri knows Otabek. 

\-- 

It happens for the first time when they are kids. It's Russia, and it's winter, and they are so fucking cold. Sleeping under one blanket with your best friend makes sense. Total sense if you've been sharing a bedroom for months. Total sense if it's normal to share a bed. What more does sharing a blanket mean? 

Nothing. Everything. 

Yuri shivers, but Otabek is warm next to him. He is always warm. When they first get to be around each other, Yuri doesn't realize it. Not straight away. His soul is chilled to the bone from something colder than winter. 

No bomber jacket will keep out the coldness of emotional neglect. 

When they meet, Yuri struggles to write. He's eight, and the other kids can already put together some words, but he's still filling in sheet after sheet of exercises because to him, it's not a language yet. It's drawing the same thing over and over. 

Otabek notices him anyway. It's not because Yuri can't write properly. It's because he can dance. The one thing his mother shared with him, other than moldy bread and borscht out of a dented, strangely smelling can. 

No one notices. Except for Otabek. 

But of course, everyone notices  _ Otabek _ . He's new in class. And he hates attention. Yuri ignores him, so naturally, Otabek gravitates to him. 

Yuri was always his sun, but it's okay. Otabek is all his nine planets. Fuck you if you don't count Pluto. They revolve around each other, attraction pushing and pulling between them. The moon brings rising and falling tides. 

Nothing ever changes. Everything changes. 

The Altins essentially adopt him when his mother dies of an overdose. The person who graciously donated his sperm has been gone from the start. Yuri is left with his grandpa as his guardian, but the old man has no money and no perspective, and the Altins do. For some reason, they share it with the shaggy blond kid with the temper and vocabulary of a sailor. 

Yuri lives with them. Ana Altin and äke Altin, and their seven kids. Otabek is in the middle. Six girls and momma's pride right in between. Otabek was always a momma's boy. Yuri gravitates to her, too. She calls him her  _ ‘lost son’ _ . 

He used to have his own bed in Otabek's room, but they kept pushing them together until the Altins caved and bought a larger bed. 

It's so much better in winter. 

Yuri is thin. There's not a gram of extra weight on his body, even though the Altins fattened him up. The scale says he's no longer severely underweight, a success to him. But they keep feeding him. For some reason, they aren't done with him yet. They don't give up. Don't stop. They are his family now. 

He feels like an adopted stray. But it could be worse. Actually, scratch that. He's happier than ever in his life. 

If only it wasn't so cold. When Yuri was with his mother, he was too weak to feel the chill rattling his bones. He was numb. Yuri slept like an unmoving rock every night. His magic elixir made sure of that. It always felt warm in his throat. No. He used to be a lot of things, but cold wasn't one of them. 

Now he is reduced to a stray, adopted against all the odds. Not worth more than the shirt he's wearing. That's what his mother taught him. But ana looked at him so strangely when he said that, all those months ago, back when they barely knew each other. So Yuri was no longer saying it. 

Not to her. Only to himself. 

\--

"Who's this?" Otabek seems to fume. How cute. Yuri grins him. "What is he doing in my apartment?!" 

"Oh. Don't worry. He's here with me." 

"I CAN SEE THAT!" Yuri laughs when the bitch wraps her arms around Otabek's elbow. She thinks she can soothe him. What a clueless butterfly. He’s hated her from the first second. Otabek rips his arm free, and she stumbles. "Are you telling me you're fucking around now?! In my home?"

A humorless grin. "It's my home, too." 

"Close your eyes, and you'll see what's yours!" 

Yuri chuckles darkly. The woman still tries to soothe Otabek, and apparently, Yuri's date is pissed, too. Whoops, Yuri almost forgot about him. 

"How dare you talk to my boyfriend like this?" 

That's when time freezes. 

And Yuri watches the crash happen in slow motion when time starts to flow again. Not like a river but like maple syrup. 

He sees the minuscule widening of Beka's eyes. He sees him broaden his stance and tense his arms. The arms Yuri wants to lick and bite and inject with venom. Venom that clots Otabek's blood like the emotions do to Yuri. He wants to look into Otabek's eyes when his heart stops beating. 

But right now, this is enough. 

The guy in Yuri's arms is a far stretch from being anything but a hookup. Doesn't matter, though. Otabek buys it. That's all that counts. Yuri couldn't have planned it better. Is that actual steam coming from Otabek's ears? Yuri might fry an omelet on his chiseled chest with how hard he is burning up right now. 

Good. 

Yuri leans up for a kiss to the stranger's lips. Then, he smiles back at his flatmate. 

It's time to go for the kill. 

"Oh, but Beka, I thought you wouldn't mind. You have a girlfriend now, too, after all." 

The air around Otabek pulsates with heat. Like in summer, when steam rises from the pavement, little illusions of puddles dotting the streets. Otabek is hot and cold and hot and cold. 

Just like their first night under the same blanket. 

\-- 

Yuri scoots closer. Otabek is so warm. Always so warm. And Yuri can't afford to lose a toe to the Russian winter. They are needed for ballet. So he has to get back on track with his body heat. 

Without asking, Yuri curls around his best friend's back. He's so comfortable, and Otabek smells of home, and Yuri can feel heat bloom in his chest. 

He doesn't notice what he's doing until Otabek turns around, sleepy. Even now, Yuri doesn't understand. But he found something special. Sacred. In the warmth of Otabek's back. Can he have this, too?

"You ... You need to try this!" Yuri gapes and turns around, back to his best friend. 

"Try what? Sleep, Yura." They have school the next day. There's apparently no time for Yuri's crazy early morning ideas. 

But he's got a plan. Otabek needs to know. "You have to, uhm, kind of like … I don't know." Yuri turns pink. "Hug me!" He's embarrassed about the stammering, not the act he wants to propose. Too young for this kind of shame. Yuri hasn't learned yet what frotting is and that you aren't supposed to do it with your best friend. 

And Otabek is a pushover. When it comes to Yuri. He follows the instructions and rubs himself against his best friend's ass. 

Small giggles. It feels funny. There is hardness where once was soft flesh, and for a second, he freaks out, but Yuri says it happened to him, too, and that it feels even better to snuggle now. 

They go back to snuggling. Yuri's only regret is that he can't rub against Otabek like this. But it's fine, he has a palm that he rubs over himself. Copies the pace. 

It's getting hard to breathe. Why is it getting hard to breathe? Everything tingles. Everything feels really good and like far too much, all at the same time. 

Yuri doesn't want it to end, but suddenly, there's dampness in his underwear. Has he peed himself in his excitement? No. That can't be. He turns and looks at Otabek. Should he tell him he wet the bed? But his best friend is busy, rutting more and more excitedly against him until he suddenly stills. 

A small groan. 

Is he hurt? Yuri is confused. His underwear is wet, but he doesn't dare to get up. A boy his age wouldn't wet himself anymore. And it's just a tiny bit. Not even soaking through the sheets. 

He figures it's okay. It still felt good. 

Otabek tightens his arm around his waist. He smiles. Tomorrow, it will be Yuri's turn again. 

\--

The poor chick looks between them. Has no one told her? Her favorite stallion likes boys, too. One boy. The one he's living with. Always has. 

It was hard to figure it out. Otabek is straight. That's what he says. That's what the football team says and his mother and all his ex-girlfriends. 

Yuri smiles, holding his head high. It's a game they play. How much can they hurt each other, until one gives in and confesses? 

So far, Otabek hasn't gotten anyone pregnant, but Yuri wouldn't put it past him. He had a fiancé for a hot minute. She ran when Yuri cut up her dress and left the remains on her doorstep. A beautiful, blood-red bow. Otabek doesn't know it was him. Or maybe he does. Probably.

One would think he was pissed about Yuri ruining his potential marriage. But Otabek fucked him across the living room table instead, her veil hiding his face. Not for long, though. Otabek had to see him. They always had to see each other. 

Now is no different. He can see Otabek's blood boil. Yuri smirks. Kisses his date again, just for the fun of it. 

The bitch is tugging Otabek's arm. Trying to get him to budge, to leave, to pursue her, maybe. After all, they just came back from a romantic date. 

"Leave. Now." 

Who is he growling at? His own girl? Yuri's guy? Both? Obviously not Yuri. They never ask each other to leave. They simply get up and do so. 

\-- 

It's afternoon, and the house is empty. Basking in sunlight. For Russia, it can be called basking. The sky is clear. 

Silence. The house is empty. Silence between them, too. They drop their backpacks. Half an hour is all they have. 

It's strange. Usually, the others aren't all gone at the same time, so they are stuck with late-night romps, shamefully hidden behind closed doors and blankets over their head. 

They know now what they are doing. But they can't admit it. Admitting it would mean acknowledging it. But it's their secret. Society taught them it's wrong. But they act like they don't know. Both of them. Like they haven't done it for years. They never stopped touching each other. But the intent changed. 

It used to be fun. Now it's desperation. Longing. Frustration. Internalized self-hatred. It's the year Otabek has his first girlfriend, but they don't know that yet. 

Right now, all they know is that they need to be quick. 

They rush each other to their room. Clothes off. Neat piles. For a quick redressing. Otabek is broader than Yuri. Just a bit. But they don't waste time looking at each other. Otabek draws the curtains. They can't do that with the lights on. Shame is a thing now, after all. 

Yuri is already under the blanket, touching himself. Maybe they can get in two rounds. Half an hour. Teenage bodies. Refractions period? What refractions period? 

Otabek is behind him. Long hair in one hand, pulling his head back. Kisses across his neck. Otabek feels playful. They both don't have the time and also have all the time in the world. 

He swats Yuri's hand away. Replaces it. Scoots closer. They practiced this over the years. Know each other, each other's bodies. Lotion on his hand, lotion on their skin. Lotion dripping onto Yuri's sheets from where Otabek spread it between his thighs. It's no longer one big bed. As if that would stop them. They don't mind a tight fit.

It's frantic. Possessive. Kisses turn into bites, hidden by long hair. Yuri is a pretty girl, people say. Yuri isn't a girl. But he sure as fuck is pretty. 

Moaning in his ear, on his lips, wet noises where their bodies rub against each other.  There is more fluid suddenly, splattered between his thighs. Yuri bucks harder into the hand holding him. They have to hurry if they want to go another round. 

\-- 

The front door closes with a bang, and Yuri is sure all their neighbors know. It's not the first scene like this. They are notoriously bad neighbors. 

Otabek's cheek glows bright red where the slut's hand connected with his face. What a pity, Yuri thinks and grins. His guy left right after he told him  _ 'no.' _ Such a gentleman. Otabek could never. That's why Yuri picks him. Again and again. 

The waste of space wasn't that easy to get rid of. She demanded clarification. Explanations.  _ 'Why are you shoving me away like this, Otabek?'  _

They were only dating for a few weeks. What's her deal? She should have known it would never last. Nothing lasts, except their bond. Healing and destruction.

Yuri is alone with Otabek now. They will be alone for a while after he effectively ruined Otabek's relationship. Not that Beka was uninvolved. Who could know that your girlfriend wouldn't like it when you growl at your roommate's hookup? When you break a mirror over not being consulted? When you grab his neck and bark out possessive snarl after snarl,  _ mine mine mine _ ? When you bite, hidden by the long blond hair? 

She wanted explanations. Yuri simply shoved his hand into Otabek's pants, and he made a noise like a wounded animal. 

During the shouting match that followed, Yuri retreated into his room and locked the door. Not because he wanted to keep Otabek out. But because she needed to see Otabek would kick his door down to get to him, even with her right there and available. 

_ 'Focus on me, Otabek!'  _

_ 'Why are you so obsessed with him?' _

_ 'I'm your girlfriend! Not him! Come here!' _

A slap, echoing through the flat. 

The front door falling shut. 

Yuri leaves his room and can't hide his smirk about her nasty pawprint. He turns and walks back into his room, already taking off his clothes. Otabek is right behind him. Sucking. Biting. Claiming. 

Maybe he will break tonight. 

\-- 

Yuri hates Otabek's American football club. He's good at it. But that's not the point. All the people are touching him. Like they have any right. He's a great wide receiver. The title still makes Yuri chuckle. 

American football isn't conventional in Russia. The most important league has only 11 divisions, around 500 players, all amateurs. The Russian American Football Championship. The league is shared with Kazakhstan. Maybe that's why Otabek likes it so much. But the winners are always either from Moscow or Saint Petersburg, as far as Yuri knows. 

It's on an entirely different level compared to the NFL in America. And still, there are always swooning girls around Otabek. 

He's short. Stocky. Almost a full head size too small for his position. But you'll have to be even taller for every other one. Yuri would laugh about it, if only it wasn't Otabek the fangirls were swooning about. 

Yuri hates that. All those fake friends. Status status status. It's not really about Otabek. Handsome, muscular, foreign. Wealthy. Do they know he snores? 

He used to be a cuddler, but they stopped with his first girlfriend. Otabek said it felt wrong. But it didn't feel wrong to wipe them clean with Yuri's t-shirt. They learned early on to wash their own clothes. 

"Beka is in your room. But he's, uuuhm … he has a guest over." 

The house wasn't empty today. But only his second oldest sister was around. Yuri smiled at Amina. "I'll still look after him." 

She grinned. "Ana will be very grateful."

He wasn't doing it for her, but sure, that was a great explanation. Yuri gave her a thumbs up and made his way over. They didn't even try to be quiet. Fucking disgusting. 

Yuri grinned and rattled the door. "BEEEEEKAAAAAA!" 

Silence. 

Hushed whispers, too quiet to understand. Otabek's breathless voice. "What?!"

Snickering. Yuri's side of the door. "I need my ballet bag!" 

Their athletic pursuits couldn't have been more different. By now, it's not  _ cool _ anymore to be seen together. They don't care. They meet at home. Otabek is now the hot, cool footballer dipping his dick into every available and willing cunt, and Yuri is the little pixie fag that all the girls silently envy. 

Shuffling on the inside. Otabek opens the door, a balled-up shirt pressed to his front. He hands Yuri his bag with the deepest scowl. 

"Sorry, I know this is the third time this week, but if you keep fucking girl after girl when I just want to do ballet …" 

He gapes at Yuri, from the inside comes an angrily screeched  _ 'OTABEK ALTIN?!' _ . 

A smile. His job here is done. Yuri turns and leaves his best friend to clean up the shards of his oh so young relationship. 

That night, no one is behind Yuri.

\-- 

"Get on the fucking bed!" Growled right beneath his ear, skin still trapped between Otabek's teeth. 

Yuri feels heat pool in his belly. A jealous Otabek is a hot Otabek. But also a hazardous one. Yuri snakes his hand back and around Otabek's sturdy neck. Eyes closed. Savoring. "Or?" The promise of a threat makes his skin crawl in all the right ways. He's falling too fast to prepare for this. Yet, he has been prepared since he was a child. 

"Or I'll make you." 

Yuri arches his back. His own whimpers don't embarrass him anymore. He waited for this. He wanted this. He  _ orchestrated _ this. "Then make me." 

A chokehold around his neck. Otabek isn't playing. There will be bruises tomorrow. Yuri hopes they will be dark enough to last him a while. He complies, and Otabek squeezes harder. Apparently, they both want to see them in the morning. 

Yuri chuckles as he lowers himself onto the bed, guided by giant bear paws and muscles powerful enough to break him in half. 

"Did you miss me?" 

Otabek sneers. He thrusts Yuri the last inches into the mattress, then climbs on top. 

"Are you prepped already? You better be." 

Yuri beams at him. Of course he is prepped. He isn't a fucking child anymore. 

\-- 

If he is honest with himself, Yuri isn't always the problem. Maybe sixty percent of the time. Probably seventy. Or seventy-five. But only because Otabek is swarmed continuously. Yuri simply has more opportunities to get jealous. 

In the few cases _he_ _does_ something, however … Otabek makes up for the lack of opportunity when it comes to intensity. 

He's picking Yuri up from ballet today. Yuri has been looking forward to it all day. There's something he wants to show Otabek. 

They meet at the entrance of the studio. Yuri beams at his best friend, that unique smile that only he gets. Otabek beams back. Open arms. They are in the studio with all the other pixies and fairies, so it must be okay to hug Yuri, right? Wrong. 

Yuri wraps himself around another dude instead, large enough to look as if he is a  _ real _ football player. Muscular, too. Instead, he's a dancer. 

Otabek frowns at them. Hates him on sight. Yuri can tell. He knows this gaze. 

"Ivan? Otabek. Otabek? Ivan." Hand strategically placed on his bulging pectoral. Ivan is almost too large for a dancer. That's why Yuri chose him. "He's my partner. And he's my roommate." Yuri gestures between them. 

"Partner, huh?" A deep breath. Yuri knows he's trying to calm himself. Otabek is pissed, Yuri can see it in the way his eyebrows cease together. How his eyes narrow when he is introduced as  _ the roommate _ of all things. 

"Yup." Yuri pops it. Ivan greets Otabek. He's polite. That's not why Yuri likes him, though. He's also packing. Yuri isn't sure when exactly his preference for big dicks developed. He's pretty sure Otabek's puberty is at fault here. But it used to freak him out to think about something roughly the size of his forearm disappearing inside of him. 

But he knows how flexible his body is. He knows he's not a quitter, and he won't say no to a challenge. Otabek does.  _ 'I don't want to hurt you.' _ All the whiny bullshit he probably also told the girls who wasted their innocence on him. Yuri wants it to hurt. 

He's going to get what he wants. It doesn't really matter who will take the next step. Ivan, Otabek … the difference is marginal. At least Ivan won't treat him like a soft flower. 

Though Otabek might not do that, either, the way he fumes. 

Yuri only smiles at him. "You know what? I think I'm going home with Ivan today. Sorry, I know you came all the way to pick me up, but … you know the game." 

He winks, and oh boy, for a moment, it looks like Otabek will jump forward and deck them both. But then he snarls and retreats. 

"What is that guy's problem?" 

Yuri watches victoriously. The great Otabek Altin beat in his own game. Running home with his tail between his legs. 

"Is he your boyfriend or something?" 

A dirty little smile, promising all the wrong things. "He wishes." 

\-- 

He's face down on his pillow, three of Otabek’s fingers melted to his core. It's not about preparation, it's about dominance. Otabek's other hand rains blows on Yuri's already tender ass. He can't see it in the mirror, but it's probably scarlet. 

It feels so good he wants to scream, so he does. A dark chuckle. Three fingers crook. Brush his prostate, paired with another slap to his glowing ass. He can feel himself dripping. Not yet. Otabek will let him know when. Yuri clenches around him. It's tight. Otabek's fingers are much larger than his own. 

That fucking possessive asshole. Playing house with his girl for weeks, bringing her flowers, taking her out on dates, fucking her where Yuri has to hear them. 

And never getting enough. 

Knocking on his door, half an hour later, when the missus is asleep. The loving boyfriend is gone now. Otabek isn't the innocent child, the adventurous teenager, the hot athlete, or the committed fiancé anymore. He's Yuri's. And he fucks him like he means it. 

Quiet. Brutal. Never enough. 

He'll fuck him tonight, too. Less quiet but without a doubt just as hard. After that, though, Otabek will return to an empty bed tonight. 

Good. Serves him right. Yuri grins before another broken moan tears his smile apart. 

\-- 

He's limping when he comes home from Ivan. Sore, but in the right way. Otabek seizes him up and growls, deep in his chest. 

Yuri is pinned to the bed within a heartbeat. Naked in the next. Suddenly blanketed by Otabek. He's still dressed, but one of his hands is working on changing that. The other is all over Yuri. Eyes wild. Gaze unsteady. Breath harsh. 

"Where did he touch you?" 

"Everywhere." Yuri tries a defiant grin, but Otabek wipes it off of his face when he pushes his own pants down. He's fully hard. Of course he is. 

And then, Otabek grabs both of them in one of his big paws. Fists up and down twice. Lays silent claim. Yuri moans as if he doesn't care that the others can hear him. He cares. Not enough. 

Otabek's tongue is in his mouth. Tastes Yuri, tastes Ivan, licks the desperation up. "It should have been  _ me _ ." 

"Idiot. It  _ could _ have been you." Yuri curls his lips at him but lifts his hips nonetheless. Chasing friction, chasing touch. His body is shaky. Loose. Ivan was everything he promised to be, and Otabek hates that. 

Yuri's panting is muffled by Otabek's lips. Hands frantically searching for lotion, a condom, each other. 

They never breached that limit before. Sure, they found ways to enjoy each other's bodies. Some would say they fuck. But Yuri doesn't think so, not as long as Otabek hasn't been inside of him. He's been trying to coax him. Because he knows Otabek wants it. But Yuri is no girl, and he's scared. No self-lubrication, the need for preparation, a dozen what-ifs. 

Yuri doesn't care. Otabek used to. But not anymore. Looks like he didn’t anticipate Yuri going out and taking what he needs from life. Even though that's what Otabek did himself. What he's doing right now. 

Condom in place. Lotion over it. Otabek curses. Lotion shouldn't be paired with condoms. Even he knows. There are two options now. They could just stop. They should. Yuri is already limping. Or they continue. Completely ruin him. He will feel Otabek behind him for days. 

The answer is simple. 

No walking for the next few days. 

\-- 

Yuri groans loudly when Otabek finally pushes in. Every thrust is coupled with pain. His cheeks are bruised, and the pounding doesn't help. But at least they have their own apartment now. Yuri wouldn't want the others to hear. 

No condom, minimal lube. They want it to be intense. The right side of painful, just like their entire relationship. 

It's been a dance, all this time. They will continue to dance. Yuri knows it's toxic. Otabek knows, too. They still do it. They can't live with each other. Or without. 

Yuri arches his back, pressing against his lover for the night. Harder, faster. Otabek whips him like a racehorse. They break each other down and build each other up. Every time, a bit of them falls apart. How long can they keep doing this? He wonders every time they land in bed. Which is a lot. Has always been. They are addicted to each other. 

Right now, Otabek fucks him from behind. He's angry. Doesn't want to see Yuri's face, he supposes. Otabek's words, his actions, his pace are punishing. 

Is it his ruined relationship? Is it the dude Yuri brought home? 

Hips smack against him. Driving home the point, even though Yuri doesn't know what exactly the point is. He doesn't mind. Learning can be painful sometimes, and Yuri is a slow learner when he doesn't want to learn. 

Otabek is holding on to his hips as if their lives depend on it and maybe, they do. They fucked each other over countless times. But neither of them can leave. 

They tried. 

\-- 

It's summer, and Yuri looks across the street. There is a flower shop. Red. Yellow. Green. Colors sprinkled over the windowpane of life. There's a snap next to his head. 

He turns back. No more staring into the street. It's the final rehearsal. They will be on stage an hour after that. It's a small production far from home, but it's his first stage outside of Russia, and Yuri is excited. 

For the press, for the critiques, for the flowers and the applause. But most importantly, he's excited for the Altins. 

Ana and äke decided to fly out to visit him. Yuri dances for them. Otabek won't come because he's with someone more important. Yuri won't fucking dance for him.

They haven't seen each other for three months. Otabek is happily engaged, Yuri heard. He wants to tear his insides out and send them in a box. As a gift. But no. No more contact. It's best for them. Yuri was much happier now. He also wasn't happy at all.

Ten minutes until the show. A pep talk from the choreographer. A minute until the show. Flashing lights. Music. Curtains. The break. Dancing, performing, Yuri forcing his entire heart into those shoes, along with his hurting toes. Applause, a speech, flowers. 

Yuri is alone. Backstage. He's trying to breathe. Finally gets real air into his lungs. Once he is less of a sticky mess, he walks back out into the arms of the people that became his family. 

Right into Otabek's arms. 

Otabek. 

He shouldn't be here, but he is. A smiling, beautiful woman hanging off his arm. She offers her hand in a greeting. Future missus Altin. 

They shouldn't see each other. It will ruin everything. Their truce, their hearts, a marriage. Yuri wants to be strong. Needs to be. He's sober now, and his life is finally back on track. But at night, when there's a knock on his door, he opens it anyway. He's weak. So broken. They are both just shards of a whole being, fitting together so strangely, it makes them whole. For a moment. Before they crumble to dust. 

They don't talk. They don't need to. 

A few hours later, when the door silently closes from the other side, Yuri knows they fucked up again. 

\-- 

One hand on his hips, one hand in his hair. Pulling. Tearing. Ripping him apart at the seams. He screams in agony. Not because he's in physical pain. But because he knows there is no way out. 

Otabek pulls him back, up, up, towards the ceiling, towards his warm, angry mouth. It's more of a bite than a kiss, and this time they both taste iron. 

Their path hastens. Neither of them can wait. Otabek has a hand around Yuri. Like he always does. He's warm, solid, cold, broken, and always right behind Yuri when they eventually crumble. 

\-- 

They already share their own apartment when Otabek tells him he is leaving. Yuri thinks it's a joke. He only recently moved in after his ex-fiancé kicked him out when she learned about him and Yuri. 

Otabek still doesn't know who told her. 

Being so close was both the best and worst thing in their life. And now, Otabek wanted to force Yuri to withdraw cold turkey? Bastard. After three months of living alone and two months of shared space. 

"Where are you going?" 

Otabek scrunches up his nose. "Almaty." 

Yuri's eyes almost bulge out of his head. Back to Kazakhstan? Otabek can't do that. "Why?" 

"They are looking for a coach." 

Oh god, that dumb football thing. Yuri hoped he would leave that behind when they graduated. However, Otabek is still as infatuated as Yuri is with ballet. 

"And äke is looking to expand the business. Almaty makes sense." 

Oh. Yeah. He can obviously not live off of a coaching fee. 

"You can't leave!" 

But Otabek only smiles at him, looking sadder than he should be allowed to. "I have to. It will be good for us." 

_ 'Us.' _ The word is far too extensive by now. It's heavy with meaning and implications. It means everything and nothing at all. 

"You don't get to say that! Not after I left, and you brought me back!" Hissing. Yuri's hands curl around the glass of water he's holding. It wouldn't be the first time someone throws something. They never aim for the head, though, so does it really count? 

"You would have come back anyway." 

"NOT TO YOU!" 

Otabek perks up. There's something in his eyes. A spark. "You came back  _ to  _ me or  _ with _ me?" 

It doesn't really matter. They both know the truth. They both know they won't speak about it. It's about pride. They’ve played this game for too long to lose it. Yuri sneers and turns away. 

"Fine. Leave then. I only came back because your dumb ass needed to live somewhere, and I still had the apartment. I might as well leave, too!" 

None of this is true. Otabek could have lived here without him. Yuri came back because they keep crashing into each other like two cars without breaks. Full speed and no airbag. Whiplash is a chronic condition. 

They both know Yuri won't leave. They both know Otabek will. But as sure as the fact that he runs away is the fact that he comes crawling back. 

It takes eleven months. 

Yuri opens the door on the second ring of the bell because the postman can wait. He's dressed in a bathrobe, naked underneath but not from a shower. He's not amused about the insistent ringing, but Vadim is waiting for a parcel. The bastard could have opened the door himself. 

But Yuri isn't face to face with a carton of vintage games. He's standing in front of a short, good looking guy. Hair longer than he had seen it before. A full beard. And Yuri hopes those glasses are for reading. He doesn't know how Otabek did it, but he seems even more buff. 

Look how happy he is now that Vadim didn't open the door. "What do you want?" 

Otabek sighs and shakes his head. Honestly, Yuri should have known. The season was over, and the Almaty headquarters was given to a guy that actually knew how to do his job. Not that Otabek didn't. Just his priorities had always been a little askew. 

He doesn’t even wait for an invitation, pushing right past Yuri, and into the apartment. Otabek doesn't need to ask if Yuri will take him back. There's an empty room no one touches, laying in the middle of their home like a cavity, nerves exposed. Otabek plans to fill it. They always lived together, one way or the other. 

Vadim rounds the corner just then. Stares at the other man. Yuri took too long to answer the door, apparently. They size each other up, and while Vadim gives him a confused look, Otabek's eyes only express disappointment. How could Yuri dare to have needs in eleven fucking months? 

"Who is this?" Vadim. For a second, Yuri humors the thought of both of them asking at the same time. But Otabek doesn't care. He takes off his shoes and struts into the living room, bumping into the other man on purpose. 

"Beka is like a brother to me." 

Silence.

Just for a second. Then Otabek's head whips around. Utter confusion. Sheer disbelieve. Brother? They've been fucking around since they were kids. Yuri can see the disdain in his eyes. 

"Oh." Vadim turns slowly. "You never mentioned him." 

Right, left, uppercut, knock out. Yuri can picture Vadim pumping both of his fists into the air, while Otabek is on the floor, drooling onto the wood panels. 

"I had no reason to." 

Scratch that. Yuri jumps into the ring from the sideline and kicks him into the stomach. Just to make sure he won't get up again. NOW it's over. 

Except it isn't. It never is. 

Otabek turns his back to them. Strides purposefully through the apartment. Opens his door. Finds his room like he left it eleven months ago. After only living in it for two months. Yuri is weak. "He never told you why there's an empty room?" Voice almost pitiful. Poor fool has been played, hasn't he? Otabek smirks. Second round. 

Yuri clears his throat. "Vadik, this is Otabek. His family basically adopted me when my family … yeah. Beka, Vadim. My boyfriend." 

That was a first. Yuri had never introduced a boyfriend before. The situation was tense. 

"And he just … decided he's living with us now?" 

"WITH YOU?" Otabek looks like he'll have an aneurysm. "You live here?" 

Yuri shrugged.  _ "Did you think I would wait for you all those months?" _ He learned his fair share of Kazakh over the years. 

_ "I didn't expect you to whore yourself out to the first available asshole!"  _

Vadim looks between them. It's obvious he doesn't understand. But even in a different language, you recognize the tone. 

_ "HE'S NOT AN ASSHOLE. UNLIKE YOU! HE STAYS WITH ME, YOU KNOW?"  _

Yuri can see his boyfriend tense. He's puffing out his chest and pushes himself between them, just the tiniest bit. 

_ "AND WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M DOING HERE? DO YOU THINK I WANTED TO LEAVE?"  _

Yuri is suddenly cold. He backs down. Turns around, Vadim in tow. Otabek huffs and begins to sort his clothes into his room. It's not a discussion if he stays. Vadim is good for Yuri. He likes cats. He can cook, and he thinks motorcycles are stupid. He never yelled at Yuri, and he doesn't fuck women on main. 

Therefore, Yuri is almost proud of himself when it takes three whole days before he sneaks out of their joined bed to knock on another door. 

\-- 

It's not a quiet affair today, not like it usually is when one of them is dating. Otabek's girlfriend isn't around anymore, and Yuri's guy was barely even there. 

It's a cacophony of grunting, slapping, moaning, screaming—then silence. 

Otabek makes sure not to drop on top of Yuri. He guides them both to their sides. Otabek is right behind him. Yuri takes shuddering breaths. His eyes want to close repeatedly, he sleeps best when Beka is there. 

But he pulls out. Yuri can feel the sticky liquid drip down his thighs. It matches the stain on Otabek's palm. He wipes it off on Yuri's discarded shirt. 

This is the worst moment. Because they are still in each other's embrace. But the high is over. And now they are falling. One of them will get up and leave. They always do. They have been playing this game for two-thirds of their life now. They are addicted, and one day it will kill them. One or both. 

Any second now. Yuri closes his eyes. Any second now, Otabek will get up and disappear. And then, they'll yell at each other over the kitchen table again. About ruined relationships and the insanity that is their life. About never confessing and about blame blame blame. 

"I'm so fucking tired." 

Yuri barely hears the voice in his ear. But he reaches out, instinctively, and pulls Otabek's hand up to his chest. That's all he can do now. The morning will be hell, but he succumbs to sleep. 

\-- 

He wakes, entirely out of it. What time is it? What day? What life? Yuri wants to sit up to check his phone, but his backside feels raw to the core. He winces and gives up. Instead, he drops his head back down. 

A large paw wraps around his chest. He presses it close before he opens his eyes again. 

Oh. 

Yuri turns his head, and there he is. Hair askew, mouth open, and smelling terribly of morning breath. A five o'clock shadow softening his sharp jawline. The most beautiful man he's ever seen. 

He's still here. 

Yuri snuggles further into his embrace and closes his eyes again, hoping this isn't a dream. But when he wakes, two hours later, he's still there. Smiling the tiniest smile. Kissing his neck, then his lips. Fuck morning breath. 

Looks like he lost the game. 

Yuri couldn't be happier. 

And Otabek is right behind him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and I would love to hear from you!  
> I'm also on  
> tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/venom-for-free  
> instagram: https://www.instagram.com/venom_for_free/  
> or twitter: https://twitter.com/venom_for_free


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